


hold thy shield over us

by alongthewatchtower



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, snippetfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:03:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongthewatchtower/pseuds/alongthewatchtower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Werewolf and a Veela walk onto a tour bus.<br/>It's not the start of a joke, except how it kind of is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold thy shield over us

**Author's Note:**

> Snippet-fic. Short. May become a larger work someday.

A Werewolf and a Veela walk onto a tour bus.

It’s not the start of a joke, except for how it kind of is.

It takes all of two seconds on the bus for the sweet, cloying smell to hit Liam’s nose, which wrinkles as he scrunches up his face.

“Niall!”

“Shit!”

There’s a thud from the back lounge, and after a moment, Niall appears from the back lounge, shutting the door behind him.

“Sorry man,” he says. “Thought you’d be out longer.”

Liam sighs, and resolves himself to not going anywhere near the back lounge or the bunks for a few hours.

“It’s okay,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose where he can feel the headache forming already, in behind his eyes. He can’t blame Niall, though, not really, seeing as Niall’s superstitions have saved them all more than once. It only took one hex bag incident (Zayn, pale and weak and cursed, Liam losing his mind out of worry) for him to start warding each new tour bus as soon as they move in, carving all the protection he can muster into the four corners, blessing their space.

They have a safe haven from any supernatural nasties or teenage love spells, and Liam is grateful for the Druid and his knowledge. The bus smells like basil and bergamot permanently now, and it seeps into their clothes and everything they own, but it’s comforting now, smells like protection and home and pack. There’s a reason he avoids the bus while Niall is burning herbs, though. Even in his two-legged form, his olfactory senses are about ten times more sensitive than human.

“C’mon,” Zayn says, tugging at his arm. “We’ll go lie down in the front. You can curl up and I’ll give you tummy scritches.”

Liam doesn’t need the hand on his arm, but he follows regardless. He’d follow anywhere Zayn led. Technically, there’s not enough Veela blood in Zayn for him to have an actual supe classification, but that doesn’t stop men and women alike from going week at the knees when they look at him. Liam had first locked eyes with that soulful gaze at seventeen, and his blood ran hot, thrumming with the promise of _mate mate mate_.

Liam shucks his jeans unashamedly once they reach the front lounge again. He doesn’t have an exhibitionist streak like Harry, but he was born Were, is used to shedding the protection of his human clothing and being naked in front of others to change. Zayn studies him with dark eyes as he undresses, and Liam can’t help but preen under his mate’s gaze.

Eventually they settle on the couch, Zayn sitting at one end while Liam sprawls over him, muzzle in Zayn’s lap. His wolf form is large, waist-high on Zayn when he stands, and he takes advantage of the large couch, spreads out and lets Zayn pet him, chest rumbling contentedly.

“Awww,” a voice says from the door. “You’re really cute, Li, have I ever told you that?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, entering the lounge behind Harry, “he’s adorable. Purring like a big cat.”

Liam cracks an eye open to glare at Louis, who sticks his tongue out in response.

The two of them look like angel and devil (not that Liam actually knows what the devil looks like, but smart money is on some kind of family resemblance to his brother, Simon), curling up on the other couch, Niall joining them with a bag of crisps. (Working magic always makes him hungry.)

Harry is, for all intents and purposes, one-hundred percent human. (Liam thinks there’s probably some Cherub in his family tree a ways back, but he can’t prove it.) Louis’ biological father was part imp, and his mother is descended from a long line of fertility goddesses. The result is a smartass who occasionally causes _actual pain to ovaries_ when he smirks, or is spotted in the company of children. (One time Liam saw him smile at Lux in the middle of an airport, and the whole group of fans clamouring for selfies with them just _fainted_.)

Liam shuts his eyes again and listens to Louis and Harry bicker about what movie to watch. He can hear Niall crunching through his post-blessing snack, can feel the rumble of the bus start up beneath them, the prickle of Niall's blessing hanging in the air.

Zayn runs light fingers through his fur, and Liam breathes in deep, basilbergamotboys, the scent of _mate_ and _pack_ and _home_.


End file.
